The Twelve Step Program
by Zombie Spuds
Summary: In this program you will learn: how to be a better boyfriend, defeat evil warlords, attract tramps, and hook up your best friends. Good luck!
1. Bacon?, Weddings, and

**Authors' Notes:** I'm uploading this all by myself because Teri is writing an 8-10 page paper. Can we have a moment of silence to pray for her soul?

Thank you for your support during this difficult time.

Now, onto other things. It's **Dresswithoutsleeves **and **Opalish** here, bringing you the funny side of – well, you know. Death and war and brutal murder. All that stuff. It's sort of a companion to **Opalish**'s Hero's Welcome.

So with no further ado, we present:

The Twelve Step-Program: A Guide to Being a Better Boyfriend

(And Defeating Evil War Lords!)

**Chapter One: Bacon, Weddings, and - - - - -**

It was hot. It was miserable. And Harry Potter was angsting it out over some seriously undercooked bacon.

"This is kind of gross," Hermione said, poking at her own portion with a fork. Blood oozed out.

Ron made a face, carefully prodding the bloody mass on his plate. "Well - it's better than - uhm – "

"Like Ginny's hair," Harry murmured wistfully. Ron and Hermione exchanged an exasperated look.

"Harry, _you're_ the one who ended it," Hermione pointed out. "If you really regret it that much, just owl her."

"Though I'd leave out the bit about you comparing her head to a butchered pig," Ron added helpfully.

Harry glared at his best friends, angrily stabbing at his plate - and consequently being splattered with pig's ... something. "Ron, you should be on my side about this," he snapped. "I - want - Ginny - to - be - safe."

Was it just him, or was that physically _hard_ to say?

"Of course I want her safe," Ron snapped, the tips of his ears going red. "But l want her happy, too, and she's miserable."

Harry scowled at the mangled bacon, wishing that his aunt wasn't such a vindictive woman. Calling him names and sneering at his friends was one thing. Serving them undercooked meat? That was a new low.

"So this is the sort of life that'll make her happy?" he demanded, nodding to the bloody food. "Because this is the sort of thing I have to deal with all the time, Ron."

Hermione watched the two boys bicker over their bacon? (She decided that maybe it was better not to refer to it as 'bacon', because they couldn't be entirely sure that was actually what it was, but 'bacon?' – because that was probably more accurate.) and rolled her eyes at the stupidity of men. "I'm sure Ginny could tough out a little undercooked meat," she interjected, and then shrugged. "But in any case, can we bring the angst upstairs and pack it in our trunks so that we can get a move on? Because I don't know about you two, but we have a whole week until Bill's wedding and after being forced to eat bacon? for a month, I'm done putting up with listening to the pair of you squabble."

Harry eyed her oddly, wondering why she said 'bacon' like it was a question, then shrugged. He had more important things to worry about.

Like what Ginny would do to him when he saw her at the wedding.

He glanced down at his plate and prayed to God that wasn't what his intestines looked like – after all, Bill and Fleur deserved to have good cuisine.

Not … bacon?

"I, er, I'm not very hungry," he said, a touch faintly. "I think I'll go pack."

Hermione agreed quickly. She'd been too polite to say no to the bacon? when it had been offered by Harry's horrible aunt, but she couldn't bring herself to actually eat it.

Ron was a little slower in agreeing - he had a healthy teenaged appetite, after all - but the sight of blood leaking out of the meat when he poked it didn't appeal to him. "What should we do with the...bacon?" he asked as they stood, eying it warily.

Harry tossed a horrified glance at the bacon? and shuddered. He didn't want to touch that bacon? with a seven-foot-gnome.

And then Harry Potter had an idea. A wonderful, terrible, awful idea.

"Leave it for the Dursleys to clean up." Ron and Hermione blinked. Hermione looked doubtful, but a grin spread across Ron's freckled face. "Dudley'll probably scarf it down, anyway," Harry added. Hermione shuddered. Ron snickered. Harry took one last look at the Weasley-red meat, then smiled grimly. "You know, I just realized. That was my last meal here."

Hermione put a gentle hand on her friend's arm, but Ron just laughed. "And what a meal it was," he said with a smirk. "There's nothing like butchered, undercooked bacon? to ease the effects of goodbye."

"What good-bye?" Harry snorted. "'Breakfast. Eat up. You'll be gone by the time we get back,'" he mimicked the terse greeting he'd gotten from his aunt a half hour before.

"Some people aren't good at expressing their emotions," Hermione piped up, her words weak even to her own ears.

"And some people need to have their noses shoved up their – " Hermione clapped a hand over Ron's mouth and sent him a full-throttle, finish-that-sentence-and-I'll-send-you-into-the-deepest-bloodiest-bowels-of-Hell-but-only-after-I-skin-you-alive-with-my-bare-hands, Weasley glare.

What would you have done when faced with a sight as terrifying as that?

"Arses," he finished, the word muffled by Hermione's hand.

Hermione went red with rage. Harry laughed.

"Let's go pack," he suggested, before his best friends could get into another one of their legendary spats. "Remus is coming to pick us up in less than an hour."

Automatically, they all grinned. The last time they'd seen Remus, he'd been hiding from Tonks, who was determined to snare herself a werewolf.

"It's not that I don't care for her," Remus had told them. "But she wants to get married. She wants us to pick out curtains. She wants children." The poor man was too much a confirmed bachelor not to panic.

Hermione smiled fondly. "They'll have gorgeous children," she declared wistfully. "Remus' eyes – Tonks' humor …"

Ron frowned. "What's so great about Lupin's eyes?" He asked defensively. "They're just gray and boring. You know," he added hopefully, "Lavender used to tell me that I have lovely eyes."

Harry rolled his eyes and began trudging up the steps as Hermione snapped, "Well, the whole world doesn't revolve around what Lavender Brown thinks, _Won-Won!_"

"What, so I don't have lovely eyes?"

"That's not the point!"

"So you're saying I do!"

"No I'm not!"

"Then I don't?"

"You're – so – exasperating!"

"Don't deny the allure of my eyes, Hermione. They are calling to you, in all their loveli – ow! No need to get violent!"

Harry tried not to let the image of Ron's eyes serenading a swooning Hermione get to him. He failed spectacularly.

"Can we not argue?" he pleaded, cursing his traitorous brain. Ron and Hermione both shot him irritated glares. Harry sighed - he'd forgotten that the two of them actually enjoyed hurling insults at each other.

There was something abnormal about his two best friends.

"We aren't arguing," Hermione and Ron said at the same time, and then added, "Stop copying me! _You're_ copying _me_! Stop! You're doing that on purpose!" There was a long pause, until Hermione shouted, "SPLEEN!" at the same time as Ron bellowed, "GALL-BLADDER PIE!"

…Something, seriously, _seriously_ abnormal.

Hermione and Ron glared at each other suspiciously. Harry felt the beginning of a migraine coming on.

"You two aren't going to act like this the entire summer, are you?" he asked wearily.

"Like what?" Ron demanded defensively. "We're not acting like anything."

"Well, _I'm_ not," Hermione slipped in snidely, glaring at him and folding her arms over her chest. "But _acting_ like a complete prat seems to be an inextricable feature with Ron." Harry rolled his eyes as Ron leapt to his own defense and fell with a huff onto his bed.

He had a headache, and a stomachache, and a heartache.

No, seriously. He'd always gotten mild cases of heart burn, but this was worse. Was it the raw meat he had just been forced to eat?

"Don't call _me _a prat!"

"You started it!"

"Oh, nice comeback, _Won-Won._"

"Bringing up Lavender again, are you? Really, Hermione, I should think you'd understand how she felt!"

"What does that even _mean_?"

"It means – Ginny!"

Harry groaned, burying his head in his hands. "For the love of Merlin, Ron, are you going to keep bringing her up? I don't want to talk about it!"

Someone coughed, and a horridly familiar voice answered him, "Well, I'm glad everyone is so happy to see me."

Silence fell upon the room the way it does when the one person you're trying desperately to avoid or have been talking about corners you in your room with no where to go and a whole week to endure praying and hoping that she won't skin you alive or start making out with some other guy because if she did that, you might have to start crying.

…Er.

Hypothetically.

Harry leapt off his bed, knocking over his bedside lamp and hitting his groin on the bedside table as he did so. "Uhm," he managed through the pain that was suddenly burning throughout his body, "Hey, Ginny."

She arched a cool eyebrow at him and casually didn't reply. "Ron, Hermione, are you all packed? Remus is downstairs. He thought it would be best if I came up and got you; you know, in case _some of you _haven't looked at or spoken to me in the past, say, week or so – give or take a few days."

Harry blushed. Ron smirked. Hermione burst into tears.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, alarmed. "What did I say?"

Ron glared hatefully at his sister and muttered, "Brilliant, Ginny, really clever of you," while rubbing gentle circles on his future wife – er, that is, best friend's back. "Shh, Hermione. It's all right. What did my idiot sister sa – ow!" He rubbed his head where Ginny had smacked him, but Hermione kept blubbering.

Finally she managed, "It's j-just that I'm s-so glad to b-be l-l-l-leaving this h-h-house!" She wept, heaving. "I d-don't think I c-c-c-could h-handle any more b-bacon? I'm s-sorry, H-Harry!"

Harry blinked awkwardly. "Er … I forgive you?" he asked, unsure of the answer Hermione was looking for.

Hermione forced out a few more tears, hoping this would work. "And your relatives, Harry," she sobbed, "they're terrible. I'm so sorry, but the way they treated us - I don't see how you survived as a child." She sneaked a glance at Ginny, whose stony face had softened somewhat at the reminder of Harry's sad and angstiful upbringing.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Er. Um."

Hermione nudged Ron's foot pointedly with her own. He stared at her blankly before enlightenment dawned. "Oh, right. Ginny, you wouldn't believe how absolutely awful it's been," he said woodenly. "Really, really...bad. Um. No good at all. The food is disgusting," he added with sudden animation borne of an unfilled tummy.

Hermione stifled a groan - Ginny had seen right through Ron's attempt to ease her attitude towards Harry. "Right," the redheaded girl said coolly. "I'll be outside with Lupin if you ever get your acts - oh, sorry, I meant packs - together." She flounced out, scowling.

"Never," Harry said gloomily to his friends after the door shut behind his ex, "help me again. Ever."

Hermione growled. "It's _his_ fault," she snapped, pointing at Ron. "She bought it from me." Ron rolled his eyes defensively.

"Yes, well, if I'd known there was a plan in the first place - "

"Haven't you ever heard of _improvisation_?"

"Hey, give me spiders, give me O.W.L.s, and I can make up all the stuff I need. Give me crying girls and I haven't got a chance!"

"You don't have to tell _me_ that!"

Harry stared helplessly at his two best friends and suddenly snapped. He pulled out his wand and muttered, "_Silencio_!" Then, without a word, he shoved his clothing into his suitcase and strolled from the room whistling, leaving a gaping Hermione and Ron in his wake.

Hermione slowly went red and scowled. " - - - - " she snarled.

Ron shook his head, glowering at the door. " - - - - - - " he grumbled, gesturing rudely at his retreating best friend.

Hermione scowled at him, obviously displeased with his uncouth behavior. " - - - - - - " she scolded him.

" - - - - - - " Ron protested, ears going red. Again.

Hermione sniffed and crossed her arms over her chest. " - - - - - - " Ron didn't even pretend to try and interpret that, as his girlf - er, best friend's current position did some rather nice and exciting things to her chest area.

Hermione glanced at Ron and followed his eyes down to her chest. She dropped her hands immediately, flushing red and hissing, "- - - - - - !" She smacked the back of his head and grabbed her trunk in a huff. "- - - - - ! - - - - -! - - - - -!" She screamed, storming from the room and slamming the door behind her.

"- - - - -" Ron muttered ruefully, rubbing the back of his head and dutifully following her out.

Harry, who was chatting amiably with Lupin, was a bit surprised when both of his friends came storming down the stairs. He'd expected them to be angry with him, sure, but they didn't even seem to notice he was there. Ron was sneaking sheepish but defiant glances at Hermione, who outright glared at the redheaded boy.

"- - - - - - !" she told them, pointing at Ron. "- - - - - - !"

" - - - - - - - !" Ron defended himself.

Harry felt his headache returning. He should've guessed silence wouldn't stop them. Remus just shook his head. "I don't want to know."

"Can we just go?" Harry begged, carefully avoiding an amused Ginny's gaze. "Anything to make those two shut up." He paused. "Er ... "

"- - - - - !" Ron and Hermione shouted at once, both going red. "- - - - - !" Ron nodded feverishly and Hermione looked smug. "- - - - - -" they added, for good measure.

Harry banged his head on the wall. "Make me a bird so I can fly far, far away," he prayed.

"Sorry," Remus said, lips twitching, "but becoming an Animagus takes months, if not years."

Harry's first reaction, which would have either been homicide or suicide, was thankfully quelled. Instead, he ground his teeth and glared death at everyone in the room – except Ginny. Her glares outclassed his easily, and he wasn't about to get into a contest he knew he'd lose. Not with her, at least. He fancied his chances with the Horcruxes and Voldemort better. He allowed Remus to escort him to the car, silently wishing for death as Ginny joined in the Ron-Hermione 'debate'.

"- - - - - - - -" she pointed out, smirking in Ron's direction. "- - - - - - ?"

"- - - - - - !" Hermione agreed, laughing.

Harry frowned at Remus. "How do they know what they're saying?" He asked from the side of his mouth as Ron stared stonily ahead, his ears red at the apparent insults being tossed in front of him.

Remus winked in Harry's direction. "The infinite mysteries of women," he said with a shrug. "Poor Ron."

"- - - - _- - - -_?" Hermione asked, eyebrow raised. She stuck her head in between the two seats and turned to Remus. "- - - -, - -? - - - - - - - - - - - - - ?"

The old werewolf paled. "She _told_ you that?" He asked meekly. Hermione nodded smugly.

"- - - - - - -" She added, loudly. Ginny snickered into her hand, and Ron bit his lip to keep from smirking. "- - - - - - - - - !"

"Don't spread it around!" Remus cried desperately. "Keep your voice down!"

Harry blinked. "The world has gone mad," he said to himself, staring at the scene in front of him. He banged his head on the dashboard and contemplated all possible meanings of 'death by tossing oneself from a moving car'. "Completely and totally mad."

Ron snickered from the back seat and pushed Hermione out of the way. "- - - - - - -, - - - - -?"

"Oh, - - - - - - - " Harry muttered, pulling his jacket over his eyes and pushing the ... er, silence of the car from his mind.

This was going to be the week from hell.


	2. Scheming, Brooding, and Pillows of Doom

**Authors' Notes:** DWS with the Author's Notes again. Anyhoo, as a warning: this chapter is less humor-ful than the other one, but it will get better. We promises. The problem is that Harry is so damnably . . . Harry, and therefore enjoys brooding and being depressed more than he enjoys cooperating and doing as we ask him.

So we had him stung up in the dungeons. We'll see how it works out in terms of punishment.

Anyway – moving on . . .

The Twelve Step Program

_By Dress-Without-Sleeves and Opalish_

_(Zombie Spuds)_

Harry glanced nervously over his shoulder. Hermione glared at him, hands on her hips and one shoe tapping pointedly. "Do I have to?" he asked, glancing at the parchment and quill on the desk before him.

"We've been gone for nearly three weeks," his best friend replied shortly. "You said you'd write. So do it." Sighing, Harry turned back to the blank parchment. He picked up the quill and gnawed on his bottom lip, wondering what on earth he could write.

_ Ginny - ___

_ Hermione says I should write. Not that she's making me, I mean, I want to write you, but I've been busy. Saving the world and all. Everything's going well. Please don't kill me. ___

_ -Harry_

"That didn't seem to take very long," Hermione said disapprovingly as he gave the letter to Hedwig.

"I don't have much to say," Harry retorted, flushing. "Hedwig, take this to Ginny, okay?" Hedwig hooted and set off. Hermione snorted, shook her head, and stalked away.

--------------

Ginny was sitting at her desk when Hedwig arrived, lazily drawing animated pictures of herself taking off Harry's head with her bare hands. The owl zoomed through her open window and landed easily on her bed, hooting boredly and offering a leg.

"Hullo, Hedwig," Ginny greeted casually. "I hope it was your flight that's made it take three and a half weeks for this letter to get here, not Harry's lack of writing-ness." The old owl simply hooted once more, almost rolling its eyes. Ginny untied the letter and placed it thoughtfully on top of her schoolbooks (oh, how delightful home schooling was). "I'm in half a mind not to read it," she told Hedwig petulantly. "If it's taken him this long to bother writing I don't know why I ought to put any energy into it. What do you think?"

Hedwig stared soundlessly at her and began to smooth her feathers. "You're right," Ginny agreed at last. "I ought to read it, to make sure he's okay. But my reply doesn't have to be long." She paused, a thought occurring to her. "Of course I have to reply, Hedwig," she argued firmly. "He's out fighting Voldemort, I might as well send him something to keep him sane. I'm not _that_ awful."

She tossed the snowy owl a treat from her drawer and tore open the letter. She read all five sentences of it and then let out an irritated growl.

"THE INGRATE!" She shouted, and Hedwig hooted loudly in agreement. "HE WAITS THREE WEEKS TO WRITE, AND ALL I GET IS FIVE BLOODY SENTENCES! WELL! If he thinks I'm going to stand for that …"

She tore a piece of parchment from her desk drawer, dipped her quill in an ink blot, and wrote furiously:

_Dear Hermione and Ron,_

_Life at the Burrow is boring at usual. I wish I could be out there with you, helping, but Mum would probably dig herself a hole and die in it if I tried to leave. How are you two? I miss you both terribly. The family send their love – enclosed is a piece of mince pie for Ron and a pocket-book for Hermione. It's one of Fred and George's … there are five classic Wizard novels in it, and you can choose which to read. I got it at half price but it was still expensive so I fully expect a long letter in thanks._

_Harry,_

_Hedwig says I should write. She's making me write, because I don't want to. I'm not busy at all, stuck in this house where YOU forced me to be. I'd work on your counter-hexes and jinxes before we meet again._

_-Ginny_

_P.S. FIVE SENTENCES? YOU WAIT THREE WEEKS _AND_ ALL I GET ARE FIVE SENTENCES! YOU THINK THE WRATH OF _VOLDEMORT_ IS BAD, _CLEARLY_ YOU DON'T KNOW ME VERY WELL!_

She smiled, satisfied, and tucked it into an envelope. "Here, Hedwig," she said cheerfully. "Give the old boy a peck for me, will you? And don't look at me like that," she added as she tied the letter to Hedwig's leg. "He deserves it."

--------------

Harry swallowed nervously when he sighted Hedwig headed straight towards him. He was in the middle of a soggy, muddy field near a mansion where Mundungus had sold some of his loot. He was almost positive Regulus had been the one to steal the locket horcrux, and even more certain that Dung had sold it off to someone. He planned to approach the owner of the manor the next day.

Despite this minor triumph, he'd been feeling bedraggled and depressed and all-around horrible, and now he was scared for his life as well. He almost wished he could run into the tent he and his friends were sharing and ignore Hedwig's return altogether.

"Hey girl," he said tiredly instead.

She hooted, then nipped him - very gently - on his ear. He winced, but didn't protest. Swallowing nervously, he untied the missive from her talons, then unrolled it.

His heart sank when he saw it was addressed to his friends. But he caught sight of his name about halfway down the page.

Oh, bollocks.

--------------

_Ginny-_

_Look, I happen to be trying to save the bloody world, okay? SO sorry I couldn't write you a ten page letter detailing every single bloody failure so far._

_And obviously Hedwig likes me better than you. So there._

_-Harry_

_PS - Tell your mum and brothers I said hello. At least THEY don't yell at me when I try to save their bloody hides._

After sending Hedwig off with his latest missive - along with letters from Ron and Hermione - it occured to Harry that his letter might not be very well received.

He might have been a little rude. Maybe.

Bollocks.

---------------

Ginny glared hatefully at poor Hedwig when she was finished with her letter. The owl sat tiredly on the redhead's desk, swallowing enough water to drown the Burrow. Ginny huffed furiously, hurling the parchment into the air and shrieking, "_INCENDIO!_" She watched with a disturbing sort of satisfaction as it burned.

"Hah," she said smuggled, stamping on it to put out the flames. "Take _that_, Mr. 'Excuse Me For Not Writing A Ten Page Letter'! And who does he think he is? Of course you like me better, don't you Hedwig, girl?"

The owl looked up briefly from her drink to hoot that she was quite decidedly going to play Switzerland in this whole affair.

Not that Ginny knew that, of course. She assumed that the hoot was an affirmative one. She gave the owl a treat in thanks. "Well, I think you're swell, too," she told her affectionately. "And you can tell Swot Number 1 I say so."

There was a pause, and Ginny thought carefully about what her plan of action would be. Then she grinned evilly – er, that is, smugly and set out three pieces of parchment. On the first she wrote:

_Dear Hermione,_

_You, being you, may think that this is not the best time to be extracting revenge on one Harry Potter for being a clueless twat._

_However, you, being you, are wrong. This is the perfect time, seeing as it distracts him from his moodiness and adds a hint of normalness to his otherwise interesting life. Of course, I could do that in better ways if CERTAIN PEOPLE hadn't SHACKLED ME TO MY BED WHILE I WAS SLEEPING to keep me from following you three._

_But that's a discussion for another time._

_All I need you to do, if you see the intelligence of my plan, is to casually mention to Ron that I've been invited to France with Fleur (she's all right, I suppose) and Gabrielle (cutest little girl I've ever seen in my life!) to "get away from it all"; and that Fleur tells me she has "many French men" she wants me to meet._

_It's actually true. The point is that I want you to tell the boys._

_I'll send you something from there – stay safe in the meantime!_

_All my love,_

_Ginny_

She nodded, satisfied, and tucked it into an envelope addressed "Himerone". It was a nickname she'd though up for her friend years ago but hardly ever used; it drove the older girl nuts.

On the second she wrote to her sisters-in-law:

_Fleur, Gabby,_

_I'd love to come visit you in France! Thank you so much for the invitation! When can I come?_

_All my love,_

_Ginny_

Finally she wrote the last letter, this hexing this one so that when Harry touched it he'd get severely shocked – so much so that his hands would be left tingling for an hour.

Hah. Bwahahahaha.

--------------

_Harry,_

_I suppose you're right. It was so rash of me to expect my ex-boyfriend to act like anything other than a total swot. What was I thinking?_

_And anyway, I would like you to know that I am completely and totally over you. I suppose you were right; I need someone who isn't too busy being a hero to be my boyfriend._

_Good luck saving the world._

_All my love,_

_Ginny_

_P.S. Hedwig is staying with me for a few days to rest. She's pretty worn out._

_---------------_

"I win, Hedwig," she said conversationally once the letters had started towards their destinations. "Take a biscuit."

_---------------_

Hermione reread Ginny's letter with a growing feeling of dread. This was getting nasty.

At least Ginny hadn't mentioned the Pillow of Doom yet. Things hadn't quite reached critical. But still...maybe she should try to head this all off at the pass, as it were. "Ginny, you idiot," she sighed, hoping the redheaded girl hadn't written about her trip to France to Harry. "This is going to backfire on you spectacularly."

Then again, Ginny understood Harry fairly well. Maybe she knew what she was doing. And Hermione sort of wanted to see what colors Ron would turn when he found out about Ginny's planned conquest of the men of France.

"Oh, Ron!" she called, fingers crossed.

_---------------_

Harry stared, stricken, at the letter. Ginny was over him?

Too busy being a hero... Well what else could he do? How was he supposed to juggle the fate of the world and a girlfriend? Frankly, figuring out how to deal with girls was harder than hunting down horcruxes.

And maybe it was better this way. It hurt like hell, of course, but if she was with someone else she'd be safer.

Gnawing on his bottom lip, he started to write.

_Ginny-_

An angry bellow interrupted his train of thought. Blinking, Harry set down his quill and turned in his seat as Ron stalked into the tent. His best friend was a dark, mottled red, and his ears looked like they'd been dipped in ketchup.

"France!" Ron spluttered, almost incoherently. "Ginny - France - boys!"

Harry frowned. "What?"

"Ginny's gone to France," Ron snarled, "and she's going to be meeting 'many French men', according to Hermione!"

Harry felt like someone had stuck his heart in a grater. "Oh."

Ron stared at him incredulously. "Oh?" he repeated loudly as Hermione crept in. "That's all you can say? 'Oh'?"

"What d'you want me to do, Ron?" Harry snapped, hands clenching. "She's obviously moved on, and even if I wanted to endanger her life by getting back together with her, I have to be the bloody hero and save the day!"

Hermione winced and muttered something under her breath that sounded like, "I _knew_ this would happen", and Ron led out a wordless growl of frustration and stormed away.

"Harry," Hermione started, but Harry shook his head. "Just go away, please," he said tiredly. "I need some time."

She opened her mouth, then sighed and nodded. "Fine. But try and keep some perspective. Ginny's letters may not be completely honest about what she's feeling."

Harry didn't answer, just turned back to his response.

_I'm sorry. I thought you understood why I had to leave, but I guess not. I'm glad you're moving on; you'll be safer this way. Have fun in France. I miss you._

_ -Harry_

And if he ground his teeth and envisioned decapitating nameless French boys as he wrote it...well, no one would ever know. Except poor imaginary headless Louis and Philippe.

_---------------_

_Ginny-_

_It backfired. Harry thinks you've actually gotten over him, and that you're better off with someone else. I could have told you so. Oh, and Ron's on the warpath._

_Hermione_


End file.
